


A Little Unsteady

by Bythoseburningembers



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka is the only one who Gets Stuff done around here, BAMF Ahsoka Tano, Bromance, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Anakin Skywalker, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22106752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bythoseburningembers/pseuds/Bythoseburningembers
Summary: A one shot set post-Slaves of Zyggeria. Obi-wan accidentally grabs a Sith Holocron while trying to save a planet. It brings back some bad memories that send him spiraling. Anakin is there because Ahsoka told him to get his life together. He manages to be helpful. Fluff because I need it right now.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 363
Collections: I Laughed-- I Cried-- It Moved Me Man





	A Little Unsteady

“The planet is secure, Master Kenobi.”

Though he had awaited this news for two hours now, Obi-wan Kenobi did not move from his meditation posture. He did not stop inhaling deeply through his nose, and his heart did not slow its pace.

If he allowed himself to think too deeply about anything right now, he feared he may explode. Or flee, senselessly, trapped forever in a moment he knew he would not survive a second time.

Or maybe he would. Maybe that’s what he fears.

“Good,” he murmured instead. “Thank you Ahsoka. Are you two headed out now?”

“No,” Ahsoka reported, still behind him. The sunlight on his face warmed his cheeks where beard does not reside. His lips, too. He can almost taste the sunlight. Obsuvian was a beautiful planet, and even more so now that he can feel the celebrations happening in the city below. If he were to open his eyes, he knew he would find bright lights twinkling like hearth-fires in that city. Sheltered by high mountains tipped with white, illuminated by a large sun and tiny moon that trail each other like twin siblings. It would be enough to take his breath away.

Yes. Perhaps he shouldn’t open his eyes after all.

“Master Skywalker wants us to stay for another rotation, just to make sure Count Dooku did not leave any surprises. Is that alright with you?” he had a feeling Anakin did not send her to ask him this. She was doing so out of respect, a boundary that has been instilled in her since infancy.

 _Or maybe she pities you,_ a spiteful voice whispered in the back of his mind. He inhaled another long breath, held it, released. “Yes. Though I can’t imagine what exactly the good Count would leave her for us, he has shown an increased capacity for creativity as of late.” For example, he had somehow managed to plant a bomb into this planet’s core.

Obi-wan had not found out until three rotations of fighting had passed, and the Separatists had mysteriously pulled out of the system. He had called for reinforcements just as he and Cody started drilling into the center, anxiously tugging the bomb to the surface for Obi-wan to disable it. In twelve minutes, no less. Maybe he’s broken a record.

Anakin had arrived in time with the new Separatist fleet, thank the Force. “Will you… Take the Holocron back to the Temple?” Ahsoka continued, after a moment of silence.

Ah yes. That. 

Obi-wan stomach roiled. His chest constricted as if a band had been strapped across him. He smacked his lips and wetted his suddenly dry tongue again before speaking. Even that takes energy from him. “Of course.”

He must.

Ahsoka shuffled in place. She had grown wiser beneath Anakin’s tutelage, steadier and more apt to think. Her compassion and sense of loyalty had nearly doubled, if that were possible. He felt her reach out to the Force for guidance. He was under no illusions that his… _Struggle_ is a clarion of anxiety in The Force. He cannot control it without giving into the budding hysteria in his chest, so he must let it go for now. Only two people on the planet could feel it anyway, and he trusted them to discreetly ignore him until he can gain back control.

“Very well, Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka finally decided. “I’ll tell Anakin. You know where to find us if you need us.” She bowed.

_You are unworthy. You aren’t getting better. You aren’t ever going to be better._

He squashed negative thoughts.

“Thank you, Ahsoka.”

She left, and he was alone again except for The Force. Though Obi-wan is rarely alone, surrounded by clones or diplomats or Jedi or someone, he has known true loneliness. It is this. Sitting above a thriving city, a hero, and feeling shattered anyway.

He exhaled deeply, chest hitching, but he swallowed another gulping of air anyway. That is all he can do. A breath is all his future is filled with right now, and it must be enough for he still has a mission to accomplish. It is called life, and he fully expected it to shatter him.

He inhaled.

* * *

“Look, I know Master Kenobi can take care of himself, but there must be something we can do,” Ahsoka is nagging him again. Force above, Anakin does not remember being this _concerned_ about everyone when he was an apprentice. Maybe he was selfish. Maybe he was less of a people-person than Ahsoka. It’s hard to tell.

Padme says she gets it from him, but Anakin is pretty sure he’s more selfish than this.

“Snips, I know you’re worried, but its best just to give Obi-wan space for now,” he repeated for perhaps the fifth time. They were walking through _The Resolute_ to the bridge.

“He’s in _pain,”_ Ahsoka insisted.

Well, Anakin knew _that_. He felt it, as a slight twisting of his heart. Who did The Force think he was, anyway? Obi-wan babysitter? “He touched _a Sith Holocron_. Did you want him to shake it off?” Albeit, he had touched it by accident. None of them had known that Dooku would hide an ancient Sith holocron in _a bomb_ he planted in the core of a planet because… Why? Who _did_ that kind of stuff? Also, why was Dooku trying to destroy an artifact of his own people? What did it contain?

No one knew. A Jedi could not open the Holocron without exposing themselves to a burst of power liable to kill any and all life forms nearby. _I could probably do it if someone would let me try._

Obi-wan had been almost possessive of the Holocron since touching it, forbidding any of them to get near it, or so much as breathe on it. Which was Boshooda. Anakin felt its rancid lies tugging at his soul every few minutes, like a siren’s call. It was giving him a migraine.

“Ahsoka, I understand your concern, believe me, but even Jedi have moments of weakness. Believe me, Obi-wan just needs time to get himself back under control and he’ll be fine.”

Ahsoka bit her bottom lip. “Didn’t you hear it?” She asked, in such a chilling whisper that Anakin halted mid-step to stare at her.

“Hear what?” He had been in the atmosphere holding off an entire Separatists fleet by himself. He’d not heard anything over the screams of clones dying and the rapid-fire reports of those still alive. Then the damned Holocron had started singing to him…

“The scream.”

“What scream?”

“When he found The Holocron,” Ahsoka insisted, looking as if she might stomp her foot. She used to do that, actually. In retrospect, it had been a cute habit. Although at the time Anakin had very much wanted to throttle her for it every time.

Wait, no. That wasn’t even remotely the case. True, Ahsoka irritated him sometimes but he had _never_ wanted too… Anakin shook his head to clear it of the invasive thought. “I heard it in The Force. He screamed.” Ok, that was disturbing. Anakin could count on one hand the number of times he had heard Obi-wan scream. The man was a toughened, stubborn bantha, and had a high pain tolerance besides.

“And…” Ahsoka went on then hesitated.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know for sure. There was a lot going on. But, I swear I heard him scream _something_ and…”

Anakin’s stomach clenched, as he wracked his mind for any semblance of what she was trying to say. In the back of his mind, past the migraine and Dark Side whisperings, he remembered vaguely registering a flash of pain. So intense he’d actually panicked for a moment, thinking he’d lost another limb. Then an echo in the Force, nearly a whisper against his soul.

_“Let me die!”_

Then it had been swept up by the battle. Anakin inhaled a sharp breath. “I’m going to find him,” he declared. Ahsoka’s shoulders relaxed.

“Should I come?” She asked. Anakin shook his head.

“No, Snips. You go to the bridge and handle the rest of the planet sweep. I’ve got Obi-wan.”

A burst of affection from her that he did not deserve. Anakin had been so caught up in the battle and the Holocron, he had failed to hear his own master’s cry for help. A flood of shame washed over him. He knew Obi-wan better than anyone. He should have known that he was needed. What kind of friend was he?

“Yes master.”

* * *

_You did so hope you had a better handle on this, didn’t you?_

_How many years has it been? You still hear us calling to you, don’t you Obi-wan?_

_You know who you are. You’ve always known._

_You’re Dark. You’ve always been Dark. You’ll always be a mere example to younglings of how a supposed good Jedi goes wrong. Like Count Dooku. Like Xanatos. When you Fall, they will remember nothing but the destruction you’ll rain down upon the heads of all Light-dwellers…_

Obi-wan clenched his fists in the dirt. A trickle of sweat ran down his temple, and he gasped for breath through a throat that had closed moments earlier. He could feel it again. That mask. It’s sharp claws clung to his face, tiny needles digging beneath his skin and the jabbing swords which sliced open his mind. It ached. Everything ached.

He could not even thrash, every muscle tensed. He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. He just wanted to breathe.

 _Get up,_ he urged himself, desperately. _Just get up. You aren’t there. You escaped that place._

He and Alpha had been freed years ago. The only reminders he had of Jabiim were in the scars across his body and in his nightmares. He had spent months painfully uprooting and destabilizing the trauma she’d left on his soul.

It would never go away, but he could control it. He was no longer paralyzed by even the mere reminder of her scent. He did not wake up in a cold sweat, shaking. He was better. He was better. _He was better._

The panic enveloped him. The cheering and music from the city bellowed was slowly swallowed by the sound of blood rushing in his ears. His vision whited at the corners.

 _Force_ , his subconscious begged and hadn’t he gone through this already? Hadn’t he banished these fears and insecurities? _Let me die. Please, just let me go._

Suddenly, an echo caught somewhere beyond his eardrums, beyond the sweltering hell that had become his body. “Mas-!”

“Obi… I’m here!”

Hands were upon him now and Obi-wan jumped. His guttural scream caught in his throat and he couldn’t _breathe_ again. The mask was slowly swallowing his airways, dripping ooze down his nose and throat. He tried to hack it up, but nothing but more air came out.

_You’re Dark. You’ve always been Dark. Its in your blood._

_You can’t escape me._

_You know who you are. You know no one needs you around._

“Master!” The hands wrenched him upward. His head spun as sounds and colors assaulted him from all angles. Yet in the midst of it was a face. He knew it, intimately. “Obi-wan, snap out of it!”

No. No. Anakin couldn’t be here. The Darkness would swallow him too.

Obi-wan tried to push him away, but he was too weak. He only succeeded in digging his fingers into Anakin’s arms. “Hey, hey Obi-wan breathe with me.”

He made it sound so easy.

Obi-wan was still _burning._

There was a hand on the back of his hair, digging into his scalp. Then another one on his left cheek. Sapphire eyes dug into his own, determined, anxious, scared and full of defiance. “You think I’m going to let you go that easy, you’ve got another thing comin,” Anakin growled.

“Anakin…” he spluttered, in warning. “The Dark….”

“There _is_ no Darkness, Obi-wan,” Anakin informed him with such confidence Obi-wan stilled. “It’s the Holocron. You touched it and it’s trying to smother you. Don’t let it. There’s nothing happening. It’s all just in your head.”

“Ventress…” He gasped. Anakin’s lips curled in a snarl. The Force whiplashed around them, a hurricane building. It was Anakin, building a cacoon of defiance and determination and the pure, stubborn willpower that was his own. It was like a hearth fire, singeing to the touch but warm at a distance.

“That Sith Witch will _never_ lay another finger on you while there is breath in my body,” Anakin swore. The fire in him flared agreement, then trickled forward until it had wrapped itself around him like a blanket. Obi-wan tumbled into the embrace. Anakin was all too happy to help.

Strong arms that had taken down armies enveloped him. “Never again, master. I promise,” Anakin muttered against his temple.

_Don’t listen to him. You’ll only infect him. You’ll only lead him astray._

“And _this_ is why we don’t touch Sith holocrons,” Anakin continued. Obi-wan huffed a laugh, surprising himself. To laugh, one needed to… To breathe.

He was breathing.

“Dooku’s fault,” he managed, with much difficulty. The heat beneath his skin began to dim until he could feel the wind caressing his cheek again. The roar in his ears mellowed, slowly.

Anakin did not loosen his hold. If anything, he was probably tightening it and Obi-wan would be worried or embarrassed if he had the emotional strength. Right now, his only stability came from Anakin.

“We are _not_ taking that thing back to the Temple. If anything, I’ll take it to a Black hole and throw it in,” Anakin continued, fiercely. Obi-wan had to agree. It took a few minutes that felt like years, but eventually he managed to steady his lungs. They inflated and deflated, slowly, timed each breath. His heart was no longer a galloping Gundark hoping to escape capture.

_Please, let me die._

There was still that, but Obi-wan knew that some things were only healed through time. “Anakin,” he murmured into the man’s dark clothes. “You can let go of me now.” Anakin did not. Of course. Obi-wan hadn’t exactly wanted him too, anyway.

“I hear it too,” Anakin told him, softly. “It won’t shut up. I was so focused on trying not to let it get to me that I completely spaced on what it had done to you. Thank The Stars Ahsoka is more observant than we are,” Obi-wan exhaled a shuddering breath.

“It wasn’t in my head,” he whispered, limp.

“Obi-wan…”

“It was a memory,” he corrected, softly. “Ventress tried to make me Turn, with a Sith… Torture device. When I touched the Holocron,” he exhaled an apologetic breath. “I thought I had overcome this battle. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry for being such a kriffing brilliant person that every Sith and Star-forsaken assassin wants to destroy you or turn you to their side. Right. Makes sense. You’re forgiven,” Obi-wan huffs a laugh, but did his best to make sure Anakin didn’t feel it. He did not want the boy thinking he was funny, now, too. He’d never hear the end of it.

“What if I’m just _meant_ to be Dark, have you ever thought of that?”

Anakin pretended to think about it because he could never take anyone seriously. “Uhm… No. But you _have_ annoyed me so bad that _I’ve_ considered Turning to the Dark Side, if that helps my case any.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Well, you know I’m not good with words,” this time, Anakin felt his smile. He smiled in turn, shook Obi-wan gently. “Are you ok? I won’t let go until you’re ready.”

Obi-wan thought about this. “No,” he said at last. “I’m not. But I will be. You can let go now,” Anakin released him as if he were a chick slowly unfolding its feathers for the first time. In truth, that was how Obi-wan felt. Tiny, vulnerable, liable to tumble from his tiny nest of safety at any moment and just… Shatter. But, that was alright. He wasn’t better.

He would be.

“Thank you, old friend,” he said, swiping away some tears he hadn’t realized had fallen. Anakin shrugged.

“Nothing you haven’t done for me before. C’mon,” he stood, extended a hand to help him up. “Let’s go grab my Padawan, put on a disguise and head into the city. I’m buying dinner.”

“With Republic money,” Obi-wan reminded him, taking the hand. His legs felt weak when he finally stood, and the grass had stained his pants and cloak. He swiped at it futilely. Anakin made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat.

“I think The Republic can spare a few extra credits to feed its saviors. Are you up for it?” At the moment, Obi-wan was not exactly sure what he was and was not ready to do. His heart skipped a beat again, imagining a similar episode happening while they were in the city. He almost declined, terrified of the mortification. Then his stomach rumbled.

Decision made, then.

“Alright,” he conceded. “But don’t stray too far. I don’t want to have to send a search party after you,” Anakin understood the coded message. He wrapped an arm around Obi-wan’s shoulders, tugged him close. Obi-wan marveled at the fact that the small boy he’d once known was now taller than him.

“You’re no fun, Obi-wan,” he whined. “But I accept your terms. _If_ you agree to help me get Ahsoka to dance.”

It was another task beyond breathing. Something to look forward too that was not war and Darkness and memories and pain. Obi-wan fell into Anakin’s net hurriedly. Maybe tonight he could find a reason to live again.

“I’m right behind you, Anakin.”

Maybe he could get better, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I had a panic attack last night and have been feeling shattered all day. Title comes from the song Unsteady by X-Ambassadors.


End file.
